"Near the church we met Legrandin, coming towards us with the same lady, whom he was escorting to her carriage. He brushed past us, and did not interrupt what he was saying to her, but gave us, out of the corner of his blue eye, a little sign, which began and ended, so to speak, inside his eyelids, and as it did not involve the least movement of his facial muscles, managed to pass quite unperceived by the lady; but, striving to compensate by the intensity of his feelings for the somewhat restricted field in which they had to find expression, he made that blue chink, which was set apart for us, sparkle with all the animation of cordiality, which went far beyond mere playfulness, and almost touched the border-line or roguery; he subtilized the refinements of good-fellowship into a wink of connivance, a hint, a hidden meaning, a secret understanding, all the mysteries of complicity in a plot, and finally exalted his assurance of friendship to the level of protestations of affection, even of a declaration of love, lighting up for us, and for us alone, with a secret and languid flame invisible to the great lady upon his other side, an enamoured pupil in a countenance of ice."
Marcel Proust, Swann's Way, p. 132
Some of the best small moments from Proust so far have been associated with Legrandin, who I suppose I should devote some time researching. I like this section for a couple reasons, not the least of which is the use of the word "subtilized" which I definitely have to add to my rotation in an effort to bolster my shockingly limited vocabulary. Mainly, I love his description of the energy, usually so clumsily disguised, when people are falling in love, even if only one of them is actually falling. It's one of those situations where you're trying to do your best Cary Grant impersonation and instead everyone in the room knows that you've already lost control of your present and your future, which also means you've lost control of your past.
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